


Finding a Better Life Coach

by SmolDargon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, counseling and therapy, undertale alternate storyline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-26 08:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmolDargon/pseuds/SmolDargon
Summary: Frisk fell into the Underground at a morbidly opportune time. Flowey has just been destroyed, and with Frisk's sudden appearance, his ability to reset is lost, and Flowey is gone for good. However, the havoc he wreaked on the lives of a couple skeletons is not so easy to forget.
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As with my other oneshots, this story picks up from where "Flowey Is Not A Good Life Coach" by unrestedjade left off. This prologue is brief, primarily interested in exploring how things are different without Flowey's input. He never teaches Frisk about resets and he is not around to absorb the souls and shatter the barrier. Things are different here than in your typical Post-Pacifist run. But can there still be a happy ending?
> 
> (I am new to AO3. If there is a way I should tag this to properly cite the work this fic is based on, please let me know. They deserve a great deal of credit for the creation of this timeline.)

Dying was not new to him. He had lost count of how many times he'd died. But this time was different. He recalled the blinding light and deafening roar of the blaster, the sensation of being torn asunder by a beam of concentrated magic, the white-hot _intent_ of his victim. But unlike every other time, his apprehension and fear of what came next did nothing. Surely, by now, he should be back in the throne room, making his way around, finding new mischief to get into, new people to torment, new dialogue to unlock. But nothing happened. He felt as though he were fading. Perhaps, this time, his determination wasn't enough to reset the flow of time.

He expected to be afraid. After all, death was the end when you couldn't reset. What would happen to him? Was there anything more after this? Or would he simply… cease to exist? What was it like to be no more? The idea was incomprehensible for him, with his endless supply of roots and vines, his limitless power and unyielding determination. To think that even he could be finite was impossible.

He expected to be angry. How dare time disobey him, who had commanded it so often before? Where was his power? His strength and force? His ability to strike fear into the souls of anyone unfortunate enough to meet him? It seemed time itself had grown weary of his meddling.

In the end, he felt nothing but the shadow of peace. He had no soul; he was incapable of truly feeling anything for himself. But perhaps, now that he could no longer feel anything around him, and now that the ability to reset had been torn from him, he could finally rest. After all, he'd had such a hard life. It was painful to think about, especially considering the circumstances of his first death. Maybe it was better this way.

He sighed contentedly, allowing time to erase him, this time for good.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Toriel wandered through the empty Ruins. It was early morning, the damp in the air thick like a fog. Few other monsters would be up this time of day, though soon enough, the silence in the halls would end, disturbed by the quiet sounds of froggits and whimsuns going about their business. They avoided her, she knew. And she made no attempt to engage them. She was intimidating, as befitting a boss monster. She bore them no ill will, those other, weaker monsters. But she appreciated the peace of her solitary existence.

The cave opened into a huge chamber, sunlight shining down from above. This was the place she had found Chara, her second child, an adopted human. It was also Chara's final resting place, the spot marked with a thick bed of golden flowers. They were a testament to the flowers they had tried so hard to see again before they died.

The bed of flowers was also the place where six other humans had fallen. All of them had come, stayed in Toriel's care for a time, and eventually left. All of them had eventually been killed somewhere on the way to the Capital. At least two had been slain by Asgore's own hand. She fought back the bitter anger she felt in her soul at her former husband. She grappled enough with guilt and depression, it wouldn't do to add anger to the pile.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a sight that both excited and frightened her. In the bed of flowers, a human lay. They were older than many of the children who had fallen, though not as old as the previous one. They seemed to be in their teens, almost on the cusp of adulthood, with no clear indication of their gender. They stirred, noticing Toriel immediately, a look of worry in their eyes. She approached carefully, remembering the last one who fell, and how on edge they had been.

"Do not be afraid, my child. I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins."

The human stood, carefully appraising the monster before them. She was a very large monster, towering over the youth. She had an almost goat-like appearance, with small horns and floppy ears, but with clawed paws in place of hooves. Even so, she seemed to be friendly, offering her hand to the young human. She didn't seem to be hostile, and it wasn't like they were going to be able to climb back out of the hold they fell through, anyway, so the human made a choice to go with this Toriel. Perhaps she could help them find a way out.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite everything, Toriel was unable to convince the human to stay with her in the Ruins. They parted peacefully, but Toriel asked them not to return. Stepping out of the great door at the end of the Ruins, the human found themselves in a dark and snowy forest. A footpath stretched ahead of them, and they followed it, hoping to find someone who could help them find their way out.

They couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. They stepped over a large branch, and as they made their way further down the path, it shattered like it was nothing. The culprit was nowhere to be found. The human was genuinely worried now. None of the monsters in the Ruins had harmed them, and they had in turn not hurt or killed anyone. They didn't want to fight, only to return to the Surface.

A bridge spanned a small crack in the ground, and across the bridge were tall bars. The gaps were big enough to simply walk through. Before they could decide to cross, they heard a noise behind them.

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

They were afraid to turn and face whoever was walking up behind them, even as the footsteps moved closer. The hair on the back of their neck stood on end as a deep baritone voice spoke from behind them.

_"Human. Don't you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand."_

Slowly, fearfully, the human turned. The figure extended a hand, and the human reached out…

_Pbththththtrrrrrrtttttt!_

The absolute loudest, most drawn out fart noise the human had ever heard broke the silence.

"heheh! the old 'whoopee cushion in the hand' trick… it's always funny! i'm sans. sans the skeleton."

He was, indeed, a skeleton monster. He was slightly shorter than the human, and somehow had the appearance of being stocky, despite the fact that he was made entirely of bone. Maybe it was the fluffy jacket and sweater he was wearing. Why a monster with no skin would choose to wear a jacket in the snow was beyond the human's understanding, as was his choice to wear knee-length black shorts and a pair of socks and pink slippers. He certainly didn't seem very intimidating, now that the human got a good look at them.

"so, you're a human, huh? that's hilarious. i'm actually supposed to be keeping watch for humans but, uh… i don't really feel like capturing anyone. now, my brother, papyrus, he's a human hunting _fanatic._ or at least, he used to be…"

The skeleton's smile faltered, a sad look in his eyes as he mentioned his brother. The human couldn't help feeling sorry for him, despite having only just met him.

"he's been kinda down lately. but you know what just might make his day? if a human showed up. you mind lending a hand?"

The human gave him a bit of a hesitant look. They didn't really want to be captured, but if they could help this skeleton's brother out, maybe they would be more inclined to help them find their way out. They nodded, accepting Sans's proposal.

"great! just go through this gate thingy. yeah, go on through… my bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone."

They walked across the bridge to find a sentry station and a strange lamp sitting in the snow. Why it was there was a mystery to the human.

"quick! behind that conveniently-shaped lamp!"

The human darted behind the lamp as Sans instructed. They didn't have to wait long before another skeleton came up the path. He was taller than both the human and Sans by quite a bit, clad in a light jacket, long cargo-type pants, red gloves, and a well-loved red scarf. The human couldn't help but notice the gold replacement for his upper right canine tooth. While Sans seemed to move reluctantly, almost lazily, this skeleton moved with a purpose.

"'sup bro?"

"YOU KNOW 'WHAT'S UP', BROTHER! IT'S BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU _STILL_ HAVEN'T RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST STAND AROUND YOUR STATION AND BOONDOGGLE! WHAT _ARE_ YOU EVEN DOING?!"

This "Papyrus" seemed quite energetic. The human wondered if Sans had been telling the truth when he said he'd been feeling down lately, or if this was actually what he sounded like on his off days. They had a hard time imagining how this skeleton could be any more bombastic. His voice was higher pitched than his brother's, and had a loud, almost theatrical feel to it, as if he were performing for some unseen audience.

Sans seemed completely unperturbed by his brother's apparent irritation.

"starin' at this lamp. it's pretty cool, you wanna look?"

_That little backstabber! He's going to blow my cover!_

Luckily, Papyrus seemed to have other concerns.

"NO! I DON'T HAVE TIME, SANS! YOU LAZYBONES! YOU'RE GOTTEN NOTHING DONE TODAY, HAVE YOU?!"

Sans chuckled, "take it easy, bro, i've gotten a ton of work done today….. a _skele_ -ton."

" _SANS_!", Papyrus yelled in indignation. He seemed unimpressed with his brother's humor.

"come on, you're smiling", Sans teased.

"I AM AND I HATE IT!" The tall skeleton sighed heavily, his confident demeanor deflating rapidly as he continued, "I Must Get Back To Work. You Should Do The Same."

Sans watched him sadly as he made his way back up the path. He waved the human out from their hiding place, a look of sorrow somehow etched into his features, despite his permanent grin.

"you see what i mean? he tries real hard, but… he's having a rough time."

The human felt sorry for the two of them. It seemed like something really bad had happened to the taller brother. The human was suddenly determined to help this sad skeleton feel better. Life underground was already hard, maybe their kindness would go further to help him feel better. Sans caught their resolute expression, already looking a little happier.

"you ready to help, kiddo? he used to love puzzles, and there's lots of 'em ahead. maybe we can give 'em a go, see if that makes him smile."

The human nodded fiercely. They found themselves suddenly invested in these two strange monsters. Sans encouraged them to continue up the path, saying he would meet them ahead. The human continued, and around a couple of bends, they found Sans and Papyrus having a conversation. For a moment, they wondered how Sans had managed to get ahead of them without them knowing, but the look on the taller brother's face distracted them. He looked as if he were trying very hard to remain happy and upbeat, but was failing quite miserably at it. His eyelights seemed dim, as if even paying attention to his brother's words were too much effort. They stopped their conversation abruptly as the pair noticed the human approaching.

"Sans, Oh My God, Is That…. A Human?"

"you know what, pap, it sure is! you found a human!"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

The human was quite impressed with the puzzles ahead. Apparently, Papyrus had built them all, and with no assistance. From the invisible electricity maze (Sans had delivered the orb to the human, "inadvertently" leaving footprints in the snow to show the way through), the "turn the X's into O's" puzzles, and the colored tile puzzle (which had been solvable, but tricky, even after a detailed explanation from both brothers), each puzzle was more impressive than the last. They came at last to a bridge, where Sans was trying to persuade Papyrus to let the human at least try the "Gauntlet of Deadly Terror". Papyrus insisted that it wasn't worth trying, that he might accidentally hurt the human. His mood had improved since their first meeting, but he still seemed rather quiet. In fact, he seemed _terrified_ at the prospect of hurting them. Sans had finally backed down, accepting that the Gauntlet of Deadly Terror wasn't classy enough to try and capture the human with.

Papyrus had disappeared after that, and Sans had shown them around the town of Snowdin. He even took them to Grillby's for a meal. On the way out of Snowdin, he stopped them.

"sorry, kiddo. orders from undyne. i have to at least try to capture you. i'd hoped paps would feel up to trying, but if he isn't, i guess i'll have to do it myself."

The encounter started, an apologetic look on the shorter brother's face. He did give it an honorable try. The human found that his attacks formed predictable patterns that, although complex, were fair and didn't hurt too badly if they messed up. One short battle later, the human was sparing Sans, and he agreed to let them pass, warning them to be on the lookout for Undyne.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the human's journey was eventful, as they ran from Undyne, befriended her with help from Sans, were helped through Hotland by Alphys, the royal scientist, faced down Mettaton the celebrity robot, and finally confronted King Asgore. He was another goat monster, similar in build to Toriel. He was much taller and more imposing in stature, his broad shoulders accentuated by his pauldrons. His horns curved gracefully high above his head, and his shaggy blonde hair and beard shone in the artificial sunlight of the throne room.

He wasn't at all like they were expecting. He had a great sadness about him. It seemed his sins weighed heavily on him, filling him with remorse and regret. This was no tyrant king in search of power. This was the broken shell of a man who had lost his children and wife and wanted nothing more than to have them back.

The human made a decision.

They offered their soul freely to the king. It would save him from having to kill another child, while giving him the power to destroy the Barrier. He refused at first, but at the human's insistence, he finally acquiesced.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The power of one human soul was incredible. And Asgore was filled with the power of seven. The power of a god in his paws, and the ability to finally free his people within his grasp. He reached out to the seven souls, harnessing their power, and unleashing it on the Barrier. It shattered, leaving nothing but a shimmering residue in its wake. He walked forward, into the corridor, as if to confirm that it was, indeed, destroyed. Before he could release the souls, he felt something. The soul of determination beckoned him, pulling aside the veil of time and space. An old friend, a soul he could still save. Reaching out, he held it in his paws, the soul of the long-forgotten Wingdings Gaster. Memories came flooding back; the research on souls, the creation of the Core, the experiment that shattered him across time and space… And finally, he could return to this plane of existence. He materialized in the Barrier room, confused, and frightened at first by his king's godlike appearance. Slowly, he talked the king down from his power high, and one by one, Asgore released the souls of the fallen humans. Six of them faded into nothingness, their strength exhausted. Only one remained, the soul of Determination. It ripped itself free from Asgore's being, returning him to his former state, and shot back into the body of the fallen child before them.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

News spread quickly of the Barrier's fall. Monsters began packing immediately, ready to leave the only lives they'd known for the sunlight they had dreamt of for generations. The human, who finally introduced themselves as Frisk, greeted all the monsters they had befriended on their journey across the Underground. Only a few remained behind, held back by old age, stubbornness, or outright fear of the unknown. As they made their way into the light, it slowly dawned on them that they were truly free. They could meet with the humans, broker a peace, and share the surface world like they had so many centuries ago. In the grip of their joy and wonderment, it went almost unnoticed that someone was missing.

Papyrus was nowhere to be found.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend throws Papyrus a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that new tags have been added for depictions of PTSD, along with some anxiety and depression. This fic will tackle some heavy topics, and the tag list will expand to accommodate new additions. I will place trigger warnings in the notes as well. This chapter is relatively light, only scratching the surface of our poor skeleton's suffering.

_"Sans,_

_I am writing to let you know that I won't be immediately joining you on the surface. I try very hard, but… Let's be honest here. My magic is still very unstable. I still lose control of it more frequently than I'd like. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt someone. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize the freedom of all monsterkind with a wayward attack._

_I promise, I will join you when I feel ready. I don't know how long that will be. Please do not come looking for me._

_I love you, brother._

_Papyrus"_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------_

As much as it pained him to write the letter and hide it next to his brother's ketchup stash, he knew it was a necessity. He had been truthful this time instead of hiding his struggles behind closed doors. It was only a matter of time before his lack of control was noticed, anyway. The cave in Waterfall he had chosen to hole up in was well-hidden; even if Sans came shortcutting all over the Underground, it was unlikely he would be able to find him. Besides, with most monsters moving out into the sun, the place was largely abandoned anyway. The only person still in Waterfall was Gerson, an old turtle monster. He apparently did plan to move topside, but not until living arrangements were sorted out. Old as he was, he couldn't get off the ground or sleep in a tent like he used to. Gerson had been around to see the war, and he knew things would take time; there was no hurry for him to pack up. As a result, Papyrus had established Gerson's shop as his source of supplies. He just hoped the old man would keep his whereabouts secret if Sans came asking around.

The bell on the shop's door jangled loudly as Papyrus entered Gerson's shop. As expected, the monster was lounging in a chair behind the counter. The shop had always had a rather comfortable feel to it, perhaps a by-product of the gentle nature of its inhabitant. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the lighting was soft, like a childhood memory long since forgotten. Papyrus carefully wiped the mud from his boots, not wanting to track the filth into this cozy space. Gerson looked up from his book, regarding the skeleton with a friendly smile.

"Well, look who came to visit! It's been a little bit, hasn't it, boy?"

Gerson bookmarked his place, standing and making his way to the counter itself.

"IT CERTAINLY HAS, MISTER GERSON. ARE YOU STILL PLANNING ON SELLING FOOD HERE FOR A WHILE?"

"Yes, I'm not ready to haul my old shell topside yet. There's lots of shopkeepers upstairs; you must be in need of something specific to come all the way down here!"

He paused, wondering just how much he should tell the old merchant.

"I… ACTUALLY DO NOT PLAN ON GOING TOPSIDE MYSELF. NOT YET, ANYWAY."

Gerson regarded him carefully, remembering the distress Papyrus had been in recently.

"Still trying to get yourself back in check, eh? I told you that stuff wouldn't just go away on its own."

_Stars, he really saw through me that easily?_

After a long pause, Papyrus finally found his voice again.

"… Yes. I Am Still Trying. Truth Be Told, I Don't Know Where To Go From Here."

Gerson pulled another chair from his dining room, motioning for Papyrus to sit with him. He considered declining, but thought better of it. Gerson had mentioned a long time ago that he had seen problems like this during the war. Maybe he could offer some advice. He couldn't run from this forever; he needed help.

"What's on your mind, son?", Gerson inquired softly. He had always been a friendly sort, but he sounded almost fatherly now.

Now that he was being asked directly, the skeleton couldn't seem to find the words to explain his problem. He sat, hands upturned, looking down as if the answer would materialize if he concentrated hard enough.

Gerson just waited patiently. This sort of conversation couldn't be rushed. It wasn't the first time he'd had to walk a fellow monster through their pain, although he certainly hoped it would be the last. He hated seeing the young ones hurting so badly, especially now that they were free.

The tea kettle squeaked, loud in the near-silence. Gerson made his way over to it, gently patting Papyrus's shoulder as he passed. He returned quickly, with a cup for each of them. It seemed to be enough to break through whatever block he was experiencing, as words finally tumbled from his teeth.

"I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE OVER WHEN HE DIED, BUT IT'S NOT AND NOTHING I DO CHANGES ANYTHING, AND I CAN'T SLEEP, AND I HARDLY EAT, AND I FEEL LIKE I'M BEING WATCHED ALL THE TIME, AND EVERY LITTLE NOISE SETS MY SOUL ON EDGE, AND I FEEL LIKE THERE'S NO POINT IN TRYING ANYMORE, WHY SHOULD I WHEN NOTHING FIXES IT, I'M BURDENING MY BROTHER WITH THIS, AND MY MAGIC LASHES OUT UNEXPECTEDLY AND I'M JUST SO AFRAID I'M GOING TO HURT SOMEONE BY MISTAKE AND I'M AFRAID I'M BECOMING LIKE _HIM_ AND I'D RATHER DIE THAN BE LIKE HIM AND I'M JUST SO TIRED OF HURTING ALL THE TIME BUT I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!"

He fell apart, sobbing uncontrollably. A few bone attacks sprung up around him, as if to shield him from an oncoming attack. Gerson leaned in, reaching between the bars and taking Papyrus's shaking hands in his own to try and ground him.

"You've been hiding this inside for a long time. But you're wrong about one thing; you _can_ change. It takes time and effort. You may not ever be able to be the person you used to be. But you're not broken, and you're not crazy. Most importantly, you are not alone in this. Your brother cares a lot about you. I know that little red-haired girl does, too, she just has a strange way of showing it. And I'm invested in you, too. I've seen lots of people go through what you're going through right now."

He tried hard to steady his voice to respond. His bone walls receded slightly.

"And…. How Did That Go? Did It Always Turn Out So Well?"

Gerson's sad expression spoke volumes. The weight of many fallen monsters lay on his conscience. He'd done everything he could. But sometimes it just wasn't enough.

"A great many of them took big steps toward recovery. This isn't something that completely leaves you. You just get better and wrangling it. Those who fell… they all had one thing in common: they gave up. You don't strike me as the type who gives up. You're the type who gives it everything you've got, and then you dig down and give it some more. The decision is yours to make. Is this how you want it to end? Or are you going to stand tall and kick this thing in the teeth?"

Gerson had given a similar speech innumerable times. The response he got was typically indicative of the outcome, he'd found. As he'd hoped, he felt the skeleton trying very hard to sit tall in his chair, forcing himself to focus enough to dismiss his attacks. Slowly, he got his breathing under control and his attacks dissipated one by one.

He spoke softly, "I'm At The End Of My Rope, Gerson. I Don't Know What Else To Do. But I Don't Want To Give Up. There's Got To Be Something Worth Fighting For. Right?"

The old turtle smiled, gently clapping Papyrus on the scapula.

"You bet your bones there is! You've got a whole life on the surface ahead of you! You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?"

Papyrus shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyesockets, finally reaching for the cup of sea tea Gerson had brewed. The small amount of healing magic in it was soothing to his being. It didn't fix things, but it did feel better. They sat in companionable silence for a while before Gerson began packing up some groceries for Papyrus.

"You're going to want to get some rest before we start trying to tackle these things. It can be painful to think about them, but we can work on some coping strategies for you, and over time, it will get easier to manage. For tonight, try to live in the present. Don't think about the past or the future. Take a walk, examine things like you've never seen them before. Tomorrow, when you're feeling a little calmer, we'll start working this out. Sound like a plan?"

Papyrus hesitantly accepted the groceries, nodding quietly.

"HOW MUCH DO I OWE YOU?"

Gerson just shrugged.

"The economy moved upstairs. It's not like I have to pay rent anymore!", he laughed boisterously. "Save your gold, you might need it when you get ready to go topside. It doesn't cost me much to make these foodstuffs, and I've got plenty saved."

Momentarily speechless, he finally responded, "THANK YOU, GERSON. FOR EVERYTHING. I'LL BE BACK TOMORROW."

The turtle stuck a finger firmly in the skeleton's direction, "I'm gonna hold you to it."

With that, Papyrus made his way to the isolated cave that served as his home now. He'd brought his belongings with him, a simple task when you could ignore the laws of physics. He decided to take Gerson's advice, and spent time examining the rocks and crystals littering the cave floor. It soaked up more time than he had expected, although it was difficult to avoid thinking about anything besides the present. Sleep came easily for him that night. After going so long without, it felt nice to finally feel nothing at all.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Nightmares plagued his sleep, just as they always did. He tried to go back to sleep afterwards anyway, but when a second nightmare forced him back into wakefulness, he gave up. Remembering what Gerson had suggested, he went back to painstakingly examining the world around him. It was difficult to do with his poor vision, but he did manage to stay focused entirely on the present until morning.

He had a light breakfast before making his way back to Gerson's shop. Surprisingly, the old turtle was already up, pouring freshly made tea into a pair of mugs in anticipation of Papyrus's arrival. He motioned for the skeleton to take a seat. They sipped their tea in silence, Papyrus putting all his effort into staying present. It was difficult at times, but he did try.

After tea, Gerson took Papyrus out back to his sparring range. It was a simple affair; just a large, flat arena with a circle of fencing around it. It had clearly seen use over the years, though certainly not as much as the arena at Undyne's place. On one side were some large boulders, marks of abuse from training sessions decorating them like scars. Gerson took up a position on one side of the arena, directing Papyrus to the other side.

"Alright, boy. Let's get started. It's a long process, but they say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Are you ready?"

He nodded, uncertain what it was that Gerson had in mind.

"Good. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to throw some magic at you. I want you to just focus on defending yourself. No offensive, just defensive. Understood?"

He responded haltingly, "ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA? MY MAGIC--"

"--it needs work. You can't get better at it without practice. Can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. That's why we're starting with defensive stuff. Now, get ready.", Gerson responded quickly, but with the calm demeanor of one who knew what he was doing.

He launched a simple barrage at Papyrus, becoming immediately dismayed when the skeleton simply bounded out of reach.

"You're a nimble one! But we're not here to practice parkour. Use your magic to shield yourself.", he instructed.

Papyrus yelled back, panic in his voice, "GERSON, I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU!"

The turtle smiled gently, saying, "Then don't."

He dove back into his attacks, throwing a few more simple patterns. Papyrus once again dodged them skillfully, much to Gerson's annoyance.

"Son, if you keep trying to run from this, I'm not going to have any choice but to turn you green. This is important. You have to try if you want to improve."

Another round of dodging, and Gerson made good on his words. Papyrus found himself rooted in place, unable to dodge anymore. The hold was gentle and nonthreatening, but the feeling of being trapped was feeding into his anxiety. Gerson once again flung a simple pattern at him. With no choice other than to be hit, Papyrus responded with a wall of bones, a simple, but time-tested defense.

"Good! Now let's try again."

They continued in this fashion for the better part of an hour, Papyrus overreacting every time. Even if he knew he was only going to be hit at his knees, he shielded his entire body, plus extra in all directions. His shields became more disorganized as the sparring session drug on, panic rising in his soul.

As he fired another round, Gerson asked, "What is it you're feeling right now? Be honest; there aren't any wrong answers."

Struggling to breathe properly, Papyrus panted out a response, "I'M SCARED!"

"That's ok," Gerson soothed. "Why are you afraid?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO LOSE CONTROL OF MY MAGIC AGAIN! YOU MIGHT GET HURT!"

His efforts to shield himself expanded, his shield growing larger and including a set of pointed bones aimed in all directions.

"Your magic is a part of you. It responds to you, your intent and your emotions. It's alright to be afraid. But you don't have to be afraid of your magic. All you need is some confidence."

With that, Gerson stopped his attack patterns, shifting into a defensive stance.

"I'd like you to show me some of your attack patterns. Just do what feels natural, we can fine-tune it as we go."

Alarmed, Papyrus stepped back, the fear clearly showing in his eyesockets.

"Trust me. I'm tougher than I look. Throw something at me", Gerson challenged.

Fearfully, Papyrus finally fired off the simplest pattern he could manage. It turned out to be a mess of bones, their motion unpredictable, some orange, and some blue. He couldn't force it into any other shape, and he became alarmed as the mangle sped towards Gerson. To his utter amazement, Gerson shielded himself with a well-thought-out set of his own bullets, destroying the last few bones with his actual hammer. He had taken no damage at all.

"You see how your fear affects your attacks? And that fear ended up being completely unfounded, didn't it?"

Relived, Papyrus just nodded.

Gerson spoke encouragingly, "Let's try again."

For another hour, they practiced his attacks. They remained messy, but slowly became more predictable. By the end, they were more like actual patterns. Gerson took a few hits, but they barely knocked off any of his HP. He hadn't been kidding; he was a tough old monster.

Finally, he waved Papyrus down, calling the session to an end. They went inside and sat down for lunch. Gerson gently lectured Papyrus, calling upon the first lessons young monsters learn when they start using magic. Little more than reminders for a monster as powerful as the skeleton. Simple things: intent determines how much damage you do, emotions have an effect on pattern formation, your LV increases your base attack damage, as well as your base defensive abilities.

"The most important thing to remember is that you are in control of your magic. Always. It is a part of you, and thus, it can be altered. You have the power to tame and master your emotions and your instinctive responses to things. By mastering these things, you gain total control over your magic. That's what we are going to focus on here. That said, it looks like you're finished eating, so let's practice some breathing exercises."

Under Gerson's careful instruction, Papyrus began learning basic coping techniques. They practiced meditation, body awareness, mindful breathing, and several grounding techniques. Gerson hoped that at least one or two of them would stick, giving Papyrus the tools he would need to face his symptoms more directly.

By the time dinner rolled around, Papyrus was completely worn out. He had learned a great deal that day, and was nearly overwhelmed with information. They broke from therapy to discuss other, less important things. It was necessary to allow for breaks during these critical weeks; too much too fast could send an unstable monster down a self-destructive path. Before he left, Gerson presented him with an empty sketchbook and some charcoal pencils, suggesting that he try and sketch things when he was feeling particularly anxious or down. He had seen what the skeleton could do when he put his mind to it; that rock bridge he'd painted to look like a rope bridge was incredible. Gerson finally sent him home so Papyrus could have some space.

"I think this needs to be a daily thing, at least for a couple of weeks. You've been having a hard time, especially keeping all that to yourself. We can reevaluate later on, but for now, I'll see you in the morning."

As Papyrus left for his secluded cavern, Gerson pulled some books from his old shelf. They were diaries; accounts of previously traumatized monsters. He hoped they would provide him some insight; Papyrus was a difficult case for a number of reasons. He was very glad that he had sought help so soon after the trauma; early treatment would benefit him in the long run. He was concerned, however. Papyrus had been having a rather neutral day. He wondered how things would differ once he began really showing his symptoms. Thinking it best to be prepared, he started a new notebook, this time for tracking progress on his new skeletal apprentice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I am not a great writer. I hope to improve as this fic wears on. It is primarily here as an exercise in navigating the convoluted hellscape that is my psyche. Hopefully it resonates with some of you as well.


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